Duality
by redcherryamber
Summary: A drabble. Kadaj wants to know where Mother is, but Tseng's thinking about Aerith.


**A drabble in which Tseng thinks about Aerith.**

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><p><strong>Duality<strong>

When they want to see what they're doing they drag him closer to the mouth of the cave, where the grey light reveals, to the eye that hasn't swollen shut, the extent of his other injuries – red lines cut into hands that he can hardly raise; bruises that pattern his torso greenish yellow and purple and grey-blue over the long, ragged curve of silver scar tissue, two years old, that Kadaj traces lightly now with the tip of one of Souba's blades. The other draws a lower parallel line – a sharp-edged whisper and its echo, promising pain, promising pain. Tseng struggles not to flinch because, Turk though he is, pain layered on pain will eventually become too much for anyone to contemplate without flinching. Kadaj understands – would make an efficient Turk if he could be trained out of his volatile temper – allows plenty of time for contemplation.

"That blade!" Kadaj says softly, with reverence. "It must have been a clean cut. What happened to leave such a mess?"

Tseng says nothing – thinks about golden light, an altar, the silence when they'd left him. Still alive. By the time he'd reached hospital it had been too late for cure – and then the haematoma under the wound, followed by infection. A mess, yes. But he'd lived.

_I'm still alive._

He'd said that to them – in the temple. _I'm still alive._ Why? What had he meant by it? Was he hoping to reassure _her_ even though she'd given him no reason to think she was concerned that he might die?

Kadaj presses the double-edged katana into Tseng's flesh – not deep, but enough to bring blood beading along the blades. Kadaj's eyes are focussed on the blood and his smile is that of a fascinated child. "You're thinking about Him, aren't you?" he asks. Tseng almost smiles too, because Kadaj is so wrong.

Aerith cried. Tears for a Shinra Turk who betrayed her every time he was weak enough to give her a soft look or a kind word. She cried, and then she left him to die. Well – that was justice. Hadn't he done worse? Given her a show of sympathy and collaborated in maintaining her illusion of freedom, and then delivered her to hell.

Still, though, he'd been disappointed. He knew what he was and had made sure – in the end - that _she_ knew it. But he'd thought she was more – more than him – perhaps more than anyone else.

"Humans are so weak," Kadaj observes. "Mother destroyed almost all the Cetra, and they were powerful. The blade that made _this_ –" Kadaj puts pressure on the katana, pushing into the old wound, and Tseng can't stifle a cry – "_His _blade – finished the last of the Cetra. What chance do you think you'll have? Why fight? Where's Mother?"

Aerith had always insisted on her humanity – her ordinariness – in the face of all evidence. Wasn't that why she hadn't tried to save him? To save a creature like him – the embodiment of Shin-Ra's evil – would be an act of super-human forgiveness. And Aerith was desperate to prove that she wasn't some kind of benevolent being from a long-lost civilisation. Why would she want to be? The Cetra failed! If the Shin-Ra scientists were to be believed, she was the last of that race. Look at humanity – how it survives! She was a girl from the slums and she tried so hard to be only that. But even there, she never fitted in. Who else would happen to be standing in the right place when a hero fell through her roof – twice? Who sells flowers, in the slums? Who else can make them grow?

Tseng wonders, would she save him now, if he prayed? Now that she's free of that human body – that beautiful, fragile-looking girl who was normal and not normal – who could fight, and swear and hate, and make flowers grow where it was impossible for flowers to grow – now is she purely Cetra? Now would she forgive him? If he prays – if he means it – will she save them all – Tseng and Elena from these Shadows of Sephiroth – the citizens of Edge from the geostigma? Will she save Rufus? Would she have pity on someone whose destiny always seemed as inescapable as her own?

But Tseng knows that he is worse than Rufus. Rufus is his father's heir, and his hands are stained only by the stigma. Even Sephiroth – Shin-Ra's creation – could not help what Shin-Ra made him. Tseng chose his path – for reasons that are hard to remember now, but that were no justification for what he's done. Tseng embraced Shin-Ra – became Veld's heir – took Shin-Ra's evil into himself when the time came, and, when he stopped being a coward, showed Aerith what it looked like.

Tseng does not deserve to be saved.

And why would he pray? He has never believed in any kind of salvation – in life after death. He has seen, so many times, the way that life ends when the brain dies. Targets terminated with a single bullet. Soldiers, wounded in battle, no longer themselves when parts of their minds are destroyed. Colleagues – friends – killed in the line of duty – nothing but empty bodies – gone. There is no Promised Land.

Rufus used to believe in it – perhaps more cynically – less eagerly – than his father had. But he still searched, and Tseng, with him, although Tseng never believed. But now Rufus has a new vision – a less glittering prize. His Promised Land is Edge now – a rebuilt city, and one day a rebuilt world, and he is the one doing the promising through his uneasy alliance with Reeve. Perhaps Tseng hasn't been a complete failure, then. If Reno and Rude have given Rufus Jenova's head – if they can keep Rufus safe – there's a chance of a cure, and a future.

Kadaj is becoming bored. He pushes Souba hard into Sephiroth's old wound, and twists, not quite deep enough to kill. Tseng's screams have stopped amusing him for today.

"I know where Mother is, anyway," he says, staring down at Tseng with eyes that are colder than Sephiroth's ever were.

Tseng presses his hands against the wound, but his hands are damaged too, and the pressure is weak.

"I'm going to visit Rufus Shinra," Kadaj announces, running a gloved finger along the blooded edge of one of Souba's blades. "I think he knows exactly where Mother is, don't you?" When Tseng makes no reply, Kadaj smiles. "Don't go anywhere," he says. "I'm not sure whether or not we've finished with you just yet."

When Kadaj has gone, there's only silence. Tseng wonders where Elena is – whether she's alive – but he can't move. All he can do his hold the wound closed and breath the pain in and out. When Kadaj finds Rufus, will Reno and Rude be able to protect him? It seems unlikely. These creatures are too strong.

Tseng closes his eyes, and thinks about the people he's failed. Aerith. Zack. Elena, now. Rufus. He thinks he hears laughter – blood loss will do strange things to the mind.

"Feeling sorry for yourself?"

It's her voice – just as though she were alive. That same clear sweetness. That edge of mockery.

"Sorry – for a lot of things. But not for myself, no."

"Poor Tseng. You never could save anyone, could you? And you tried so hard!"

"Trying – doesn't mean anything."

He can almost see her now, head on one side, eyebrows raised, something bird-like in her gestures. "You don't believe that," she says. "Or – you shouldn't. But perhaps you do."

There's so much he wants to say – to explain. Absurdly, he wants to ask, _Are you all right?_ But she's dead.

She tosses her head and gives a shrug. "I'm all right. I suppose – you want to be forgiven?" She sounds a little petulant, a little bored, as she adds, "They all do." It makes him smile, because she hasn't changed at all, and she's still as much human as Cetra. He feels foolish that he ever thought she was more one than the other.

"I wouldn't ask that," he says.

"Oh, no. Of course - _you_ wouldn't." She turns away, looks back at him over her shoulder, capricious as ever. "It doesn't matter anyway. Someone's coming." He hears her laughter, but he can no longer see her face. He thinks he can smell the faint sweet-sharp scent of her flowers though – the flowers from the church, yellow and white.

But something red is moving through the shadows. Painfully, slowly, Tseng turns his head and looks into the crimson eyes of his rescuer.

In his mind he hears Aerith's voice again. "Don't _worry_ so much, Tseng! Go and save Rufus. After all, you're still alive!"

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading. <strong>


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